


Far Afield

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Complicated Relationships, Eating, F/M, Fix-It, Inhumans (Marvel), Lust, Male-Female Friendship, Music, Secrets, Trust, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16206095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Re-imagining the beginning of S3. Daisy and Coulson are stuck in a cabin as she searches for an emerging Inhuman.Written for #cousyfixit, remake a season





	Far Afield

The case has taken them further afield than they had expected.

Further from hom. At least, what they are calling home these days.

Daisy is trying to find all the Inhumans who have been affected by the Terrigen, and reports were popping up all over, too fast for them to save them all.

It's a race between SHIELD and this new agency, the ATCU, which seemingly sprung up out of nowhere, fully staffed and equipped.

"Their training, it reminds me of something," she tells him, teeth chattering, looking down at the tablet in her hands.

"It should. HYDRA was embedded in every agency. We got rid of the heads, but the foot soldiers..." he tells her, taking off his cap and smoothing down his hair.

Then she shuts it off quickly to preserve whatever is left of the battery. There's no power here.

He carefully, like he is asking a sort of permission, takes her hand in his own and tries to warm it.

His hand, unlike hers, is warm, and she wonders for a moment what he's been up to while she was out securing the perimeter when the scent hits her. The warmth.

"I started the stove fire. No use in hiding if all that's left behind are a couple of popsicles."

"I'd like to see them try me," she says, wanting to sound brave. Not for herself, of course, she could flatten them. But Coulson...

"I'd like to see them try you," he agrees with a cocky smile, and she feels warm all over again, but for a different reason.

As frustrating as these few months have been trying to get Project CENTIPEDE going, at least she's had help at failing?

Andrew, guiding her to sort through losing her parents and what her new role means, as more than just a SHIELD agent.

Mack, to play video games with and blow off steam after missions go south. Always having her back in the field.

And of course, Coulson. Trying to help out any way he can, even though she can tell he feels like he's not doing enough.

He actually tried to convince her to sit this one out, then followed after her when she wouldn't.

How can she tell him that the Inhumans she's in contact with, from Afterlife, still won't trust SHIELD? She can't risk having their confidence in her shaken.

There are still people inside SHIELD who seem unsure about this.

She has to push away thoughts about what SHIELD did when it was in the hands of different leaders, how they attacked Inhumans.

Are they really that different from the ATCU with the wrong people in charge?

Coulson has just realized he's still holding onto her hand and catches himself, slowly releasing it back to her.

She wants to tell him everything, but it would be betraying their trust. And she's already done enough damage.

Her eyes dart away from his prosthetic before he can catch her glimpse. He still won't touch her with it.

She can hardly blame him.

  
###

  
"People are being terrorized, Coulson. Dragged from their homes and taken...who knows where!"

She tosses him the candy bar from her backpack and he starts to unwrap it, then holds it back out to her.

"I'm not hungry."

"The ATCU has more manpower than us," he goes on, taking a bite and chewing. "More resources."

"So what?" she says, exasperated. "So did HYDRA and you managed to take them out."

He sighs and slumps down on the edge of the bed, looking up at her. She's sure that he's just as tired of having these kinds of conversations as she is.

Or maybe he's just tired from the hike up here as it started to snow. The Inhuman they're looking for lives up in these mountains.

"Not people," he says to her gently. " _Your_ people. And I know you're blaming yourself, but this is not your fault."

"They would still be living normal lives if it wasn't for me."

Scooting over like he was anticipating her arrival, he turns to her as she sits beside him.

"They were born with a gift, just like you. And a few people decided who got to use their gift and who didn't."

"Some of them are dangerous," she reminds him, even though she knows where he's going with this.

"Some people say that about you," he tells her, pausing until she meets his eyes. "And it's not true."

She almost lost him. She reminds herself that she almost lost him and if he had never met her...

"You shouldn't have followed me here. You could be out there, doing something from the base, tracking him, or-"

"But then you'd be alone." The reply sounds a little stern like the idea is something he won't allow. Which is why Mack was assigned as her field partner.

He's still afraid that she is going to run. Sometimes she is afraid she might.

Only, she knows that she could never leave him. Not even if she tried. Even the thought of it does something strange and painful to her heart that she can't exactly describe in words.

"I'll dig around in the pantry and see if anyone's left some food behind," he tells her, standing. "Maybe our Inhuman?"

She can tell he's getting restless and when he gets restless he tries to keep himself busy being useful.

Outside the hunting cabin's window, the snow is still coming down and the sun is starting to fade.

"I'll look for some candles," she tells him over her shoulder, and then goes to the shelves and starts looking through containers like jars of nails and wrapped red hot candies.

When she hears him hiss, she spins around and sees him almost drop the beaten up coffee pot in his prosthetic hand.

He's managed to catch it, but he's struggling with it, and she stops herself to let him finish setting it on the wood burning stove.

"I found some coffee," he says, trying to even out the frustration in his voice. "Thought it would be nice? Maybe you could get some of the snow and melt it?"

She gives him a small smile. "A guy after my own heart."

She grabs a dented pan, and just before she closes the door of the cabin behind her, she gives him one last look over her shoulder.

Watching his frown as he tries to use the can opener.

  
###

  
"What if they are HYDRA," she tells him. "What if we didn't get all of the heads, and they just want us to think that?"

"Stop thinking like HYDRA, I'm trying to enjoy my dinner."

He dips his spoon down between them into the pot of beans and takes another bite.

"It's missing something. Maybe a little brown sugar? Not bad, though."

"Is this something your mom used to make?" she asks him.

"More like, something I made my mom," he tells her, watching her pause to take a bite, making sure she wants to talk about moms. "I got the idea from my neighbors. The Breedens. They'd let me come over if my mom was working really late."

"So you were a latch-key kid," she tells him, taking another bite, thinking of him eating it as a kid. "Makes sense. Why you're so resourceful."

"Thanks," he says with a shy smile.

"And...think your own jokes are so funny," she adds.

"Hey, you always laugh at my jokes," he replies, knocking her spoon out of the way with his own when she goes in for another bite.

"Someone has to," she says, starting to smile, watching him bite on his lower lip like he's thinking of a barb.

"I-I like your jokes," she admits, dropping her spoon into the pot, staring at it. "I like your music and your car. I even like your suits, and that took a lot of work."

He goes quiet, and his expression changes to something curious, like he's studying her now, and she gets up out of the chair at the small table.

"Well, I'm going to go check the perimeter. We said every thirty minutes, right?"

Coulson sits back slowly in his chair, she can feel him staring after her as she grabs the flashlight. "Right."

It's cold outside, and she wraps her arms around herself seeing her own breath in the moonlight.

"Don't be so stupid," she tells herself out loud. "He's the reason you can't even put a team together right now. If they can't trust you, if they think SHIELD means more-"

There is a crunch in the snow that's not hers, and she freezes, feels her heart start to thump in her chest.

When she makes it closer to the trees, she sees the deer dart away from her in fear, heading deeper into the woods.

It's quiet again and she turns back to the faint light through the windows of the cabin, thinking about how warm it will be when she makes it back.

Even out here in these unfamiliar mountains, in the dark, it somehow feels like such a safe place.

Her phone rings and she knows who it is. Another reason she suggested checking the perimeter.

"Hey," she says, answering it as she walks on. "It's good to hear your voice. How are things where you are?"

Lincoln sounds tense on the other end of the line. He's telling her about the ATCU, and wanting to know if there is any connection to SHIELD.

"No, _no_ ," she replies. "They're tracking them and finding them as they transition. They just get there before we do. I know, we're frustrated, too. _I'm_ frustrated."

He wants to know what SHIELD is going to do with them. Use them for weapons, and how will that make them any different than HYDRA or the ATCU?

"We're not weapons, but we can help protect people. We can teach Inhumans how to use their gifts and make the transition less painful, if you would just trust-"

He has to go. Always just on time in case his phone was being monitored or traced.

He doesn't trust her.

She can hardly blame him.

  
###

  
When she opens the door again, there's something sweet in the air. Music.

"I found an old radio," he tells her. "Not sure how much battery is left."

The music sounds like the mountains they're in. Folksy, with slow, pining fiddles, and a woman's voice carried above it.

He's going to make this as hard as possible, she thinks, shutting the door behind her and stamping the snow off her boots.

How is she going to earn Lincoln's trust when she's already in over her head about someone else? Even if it's impossible, it's still real.

"I was thinking about what you said, about HYDRA," he goes on. "And you're right, we have no way of knowing. But what if we can get inside the ATCU? Find out what they're about?"

"You mean spy on them?" she asks him, taking the cup of hot coffee he's offered her.

"No, I mean, through diplomatic channels," he says to her, watching her sip. "Force transparency through diplomacy."

"Are you planning on setting up shop in DC and lobbying the government about Inhuman rights?" she jokes.

"If I have to," he says, a little defensively. "They're already making these decisions without Inhumans having a say. You know where this is going if we don't get a handle on it now."

She puts the coffee cup down. "I know you're just trying to help, but this isn't something that can be solved by-"

"You. Not me, you."

"You put me in charge of the Welcome Wagon, when I don't actually have anyone to welcome, because they keep-" She watches his face fall, then starts to apologize. "I'm sorry. That's not your fault."

"I was in charge of the Welcome Wagon, once. It wasn't called something quite so friendly, but-" he says, his brows furrowing.

"But what?" she asks, filling in the pause.

"But now I'm Director. I won't always be."

The music fills in the gap in the conversation now, as they both look away. He finishes his coffee, holding the cup in the wrong hand.

She doesn't want to talk about this right now. Even though she knows that he's right.

She wants something less complicated.

To have a win. For this to be the beginning of something that will work. To get ahead of the problem she created, not wait and have to move from behind.

To just have something really good. Even if it's for a moment.

"The music's nice," she tells him, giving a smile as a peace offering.

"I was hoping you would like it," he sighs in relief, giving in. Following her lead. "There weren't many stations to choose from up here."

Lifting her coffee cup again, she takes a slow sip of it and blinks at him from over the rim as the fiddles pick up their pace.

"When I looked at this place from the outside in, it made me think of the Retreat, of why you put me there. To keep me safe."

He jerks his head back a little at the idea and then tilts his head to consider her.

"Are you planning on locking me up in this cabin?" he asks her with a smirk, bumping his hip against the table's edge as he shifts.

Maybe it's just nerves? She hears herself swallow. Pushes away the thought of secrets and focuses on his eyes. He probably already knows, anyway, he's just trusting her until she gives him a reason not to, isn't he?

She looks down at his prosthetic hand and reaches her fingers out towards it, then stares back up at him. "If I did, would it work?"

He looks like he's holding his breath, being careful, like he always is. But on the verge of maybe actually getting it. Only because she knows how to read him so well, it gives her courage to step closer.

Then his fingers reach out and brush against hers. Not to take her hand, but more like the shadow of a caress. The brief touch feels different, not exactly real.

But the gesture is.

His eyes have dropped, fixated on her fingers wrapping around the prosthetic hand to hold it, and as though he's starved for it, his other hand closes over the top of hers.

"No," he says, meeting her eyes. "Not without you."

He blinks the first time his phone rings. Then he finally answers it, agitated.

"It's Mack. The ATCU sent an extraction team into town. He must've gone down."

"Great, we flushed him out for them," she says bitterly, crossing her arms.

They exchange a glance, as she takes a step backward when she hears Mack asking for orders.

"Stand down," he says into the phone, watching her. "See if you can get close enough to look at their operations, but do not engage."

He hangs up the phone and puts his hands on his hips, his eyes shut for a moment.

"I think the snow is letting up," she says.


End file.
